A Historical Tome on Our Time's Saviors
by pikammd
Summary: (Title is a work in progress.) When the final battle with Grima is upon them, a slightly different group than we all know looks back on how they all came together, and their journey so far. A scribe records their words in the hopes that someone after this day will survive to read it. (Based off a dream I once had. This is my first FE:A fanfic, so reviews/tips are much appreciated!)
1. Prologue - Zherva

Hello readers! I've been on here a long time, but haven't really been a participant. I hope to change that this time around. So, with a new change, a new story! I'm trying my hand for the first time at a Fire Emblem: Awakening fanfic. It will be based off a dream I once had, and it's been awhile since I played, so I apologize for inconsistencies.

Please do be aware that with me being in college, updates will be few and far between. However, I hope you enjoy what I do have to write. I apologize for the title as I honestly don't know what to call this yet, and, well, this is mostly just something I wanted to write. I would LOVE if anyone would be kind enough to leave a review with maybe some ideas, hints, tips, anything, but don't stress over it too much. I'm just having fun, and I hope you do too.

Without further ado, the prologue~

* * *

Should. . .

Should I begin?

. . .

Oh good, you're ready. Time to get started then. Cue the cheesiness! Once Upon a Time, In a land and nobody really remembers anymore. . .

*snort*

Okay, never mind with that. Sorry, but that's too much cheese, even for me, and I love cheese! And bear jerky. That stuff never goes bad!

Anyway, just to clarify, I am normally quite good at telling stories. I can suck you in faster than Grima could swallow you down! Well, he actually has quite the long throat. That might take a while... Imagine going down that, all slimy and tight... I'm not claustrophobic, but even I'm shuddering at the thought. You get the idea! Let's scratch that visual all together. Sorry about that. Back to what I was saying.

I am normally very good at storytelling, just ask my kids, but this time, it's a bit different. This is my own story, and I just can't garnish it like I do others. There are just too many horrible truths, heated moments, and troubling times. Even in telling, I will laugh, I will cry, and I will lay down all the sass Naga wish she had! When appropriate. That probably wasn't appropriate timing. Sorry, again. I also apologize way too often if you haven't noticed, so be prepared for that. It is something I've been working on. And ignore the "sorry sin counter" at the end of each section. I'm tracking my progress.

And once again, I have gotten off topic. Dang it! Seriously, throw a rock at me or something when I do that. We'll never get the story told before the final battle at this rate.

Oh, and don't mind if others butt in. It is their story too, and every time I tell this story, they have to add their two cents.

 _Well of course! Not only is it our story too, but somebody has to brighten up the sour moments!_

That was Lissa, if you couldn't feel the cheer radiating off her like death of Risen.

 _Hey!_

Oh don't pout Lissa. You're too cute for that, and you know what Gregor does about that.

 _. . . Fine. Okay! No pouting, especially now!_

Well that worked. It is true though. Where we are, being down on ourselves only makes everything so much worse. You will understand later. It is difficult to make sense out of until you hear my, er, our story.

I suppose that's as good of an entrance as we're going to get. Sadder than I had hoped for, but I suppose overall the story is sad as well. It fits. And thank you, both for listening and writing this down. I hope this has a good ending. . . Or really, any ending at all. One that can be written down. Meaning Humanity isn't all exterminated after this. Sorry, positivity. Right. Well, just make sure even if you don't get a proper ending that somebody reads this. See? Someone reads this and I'm positive they'll learn something. That counts, right?

 _I will let it, this time._

Alright. I will take that. Thank you, Lissa.

 _Welcome._

Okay. Let's start at the beginning. My first solid memory is waking up alone in a field with no memory. Not even my own name. . .

"Sorry" sin count: 4  
(In two pages? Ouch, rough start.)


	2. Chapter 1 - Zherva

Hello again, already! Since the prologue is so short and I have chapter one already done, I'll give you all this too. Enjoy~

* * *

My first solid memory is waking up alone in a field with no memory. Not even my own name. It was a cliche bright sunny day out, and was quite hot. I would say middle of summer but the barley was browning as if ready to harvest, so it was more like late summer. Seems odd that barley was the first thing I remember, but when that and blue sky is all you can see, it makes sense. I remember just laying there for the longest time, trying to think of why I was out laying in a field, which led me to what in my life would cause me to go to such a place, which led me to what sort of life I even had. It didn't take long to realize I couldn't even remember my name. I admit, I likely was there for hours, just laying there in the sun, trying to figure out anything about myself. I actually had quite the sunburn after that.

What finally got me moving was probably what you would expect. One of our current problems. I had sat up to take inventory of myself, see if my pants or something could give me an inkling of what I did or where I should go, when I hear this ungodly moaning. No amount of sun could warm the chill that went up my spine from that. It was quickly accompanied by grunts, footsteps, and the sound of the barley giving way underfoot. They were coming through the field, and at the time, I feared they were coming for me. Now I know that they are coined "The Risen", but back then, they were just walking Armageddon to me. In all honestly, I'm willing to admit I ran like a small child. Tripping over my own feet included, even without the tall barley slowing me down, which it did. I ran for my life, but the Risen are actually quite fast when they want to be. As soon as I started running, they took off after me.

My panic kept me ahead of them for a good while. I had no weapons, no knowledge, nothing but my legs to save me. I don't know how long I ran, but eventually, I started to tire. That was when I got about as lucky as one can get. The pounding footsteps behind me turned into the clashing of weapons. I am not entirely sure, but I believe someone stepped in and started fighting the small hoard behind me. I am ashamed to say I did not even slow down to see if it was true, let alone thank whoever saved me. To this day, I am grateful to whoever that was, and hope someday I can repay them.

My memory for the first few days is foggy. I felt like I hadn't eaten in a week, and of course, finding a town when I didn't know where I was was not easy. My body remembered some old habits apparently during that time, and that's when I began to wonder. It wasn't too hard for me to find food, or make a fire, or find a half decent place to spend the night. It was like I had spend a great deal of time out on my own in the wilderness before, and if I didn't think too hard about it, I was able to do things like craft a makeshift fishing pole and the like. It was quite irksome, knowing techniques but not where I got them from.

Jump a few weeks later and I did finally find a town. It was small, but the church's Bishop was willing to help me out. He gave me little bits of food, allowed me to stay overnight in the church, and tried to help me recall some memory. In talking to him, he asked for my name, and in return I was suddenly able to recall that one detail. Zherva. My name is Zherva. Unfortunately, that was all I was able to recall under his guidance. There was another man though, and he was one who was outdoors often, as I had found I had been as well. He offered to take me out with him and see if anything else would come to mind with a little pushing. Long story short and many actions I do not want to admit to, through him pushing a little too hard and attempting to take advantage of me, I discovered I am quite adept with a sword. That, coupled with my knowledge of long time frames without civilization, and some very specific moments and thoughts about how I was – examining for information, trajectories, best routes – I realized I had likely been something akin to a soldier. Yet, that didn't feel quite right. So, a year passed. I had long since left that town and I rarely returned to any town. Through my actions, I found out I have merits in many strengths. I came to obtain the sword you see me with now, a few well-worn tomes, and a staff I made myself. Lost that one a few fights ago, as well as my favorite bow, but all in all back then I was happy enough. Still had very little clue as to who I was other than my mindset and muscle memory, and a few... disturbing visions.

However, aside from all that, there was one thing that always stayed the same. The Risen. I thought for a good while that they were following me, and then when they were often ahead of me, I found that they were simply everywhere. Often I saw men fighting them but I never joined, although I did step up for a few who could not fight. I bantered between being followed and simply happening upon them, and of course got into several scrapes with them. Some worse than others. I found over time many small tricks to fighting them and noticed inconsistencies in their style that seemed... specific. I won't bore you with my figuring out these small changes. I've learned that from here, it's more fun to jump right into the fray. Here is where is starts getting good. Are you ready?

 _May I tell this part? It is my favorite, after all._

You say that about nearly every part, Chrom.

 _Every part that includes you. And when we first met is one of my fondest memories._

Quit being cute, Chrom. You know what that-

 _You're blushing._

. . . Fine, you can tell this part.

 _Success!_

But I get to tell them about what you do in the castle when you think nobody's looking.

 _You said you wouldn't tell anyone!_

It's relevant to the story. Deal with it, if you want to tell of our meeting.

 _Sometimes, I love that smirk of yours, and sometimes I despise it._

I know.

 _. . . Fine, I accede._

Love you too.

 _And now I'm blushing. Gods, woman._

Alright Chrom, you fought hard and well for this. Go ahead. Start before we die of your pink bubble background.

 _That was a one-time thing!_

Sure, sure. Keep believing that.

 _Ugh, woman. Alright. Frederick, Lissa, a few soldiers and I were heading to a town that had asked us for assistance in a problem of Risen. Along the way. . ._

"Sorry" sin count: 0

(Whoo! Kept on topic, AND didn't apologize for it!)


	3. Chapter 2 - Chrom

Frederick, Lissa, a few soldiers and I were heading to a town that had asked us for assistance in a problem of Risen. Along the way is where we encountered Zherva.

The path was a well-worn one, so it was easy to traverse. Or, at least it should have been. We were but a few miles down the road when we encountered our first Risen of the day. There were only a few, and easily dispatched, but there were plenty more waiting. The closer we got to town, the more that appeared, and we were still a fair two miles from said town when we came across an entire hoard. The stench alone was enough to curdle a man's breakfast, and to look into their faces was to see Grima himself. It was at this time that I considered falling back to regroup and plan how to take care of the beasts. However, my plan was cast aside as, in the center of the enmassing hoard, I caught the sight of a cloak and sword, and soon after, the dismembered head of a Risen flying through the air.

"Frederick, there's someone in there." I had said to him, already beginning to move towards the hoard.

"Milord, it is but one, and the hoard great. We must regroup." He had taken my arm in his hand, trying to hold me back.

"Damn it Frederick, I can't just leave someone! He could need our help!" I drew my sword as I released myself from Frederick's grip and ran towards the hoard. I could hear armor's call behind me as Frederick followed. I heard only him, meaning he was coming to get me while the rest of our march stayed behind with Lissa. I cursed under my breath as I took momentary shelter behind a boulder slightly off the path. I took the chance to see if I could place any weak points in the hoard's mass, but all I really saw was a glimpse of the man in the center with a sword nearly as long and wide as he himself, the steel of both splattered with blood although both seemed in good condition. From what little I saw, there were no injuries hampering the fighting style, which was one I was not familiar with.

At the time Frederick caught up with me, I had kneeled down, the man no longer visible but I could hear grunts and sword slashes above the roaring moan of the hoard. Turning to look at my companion, I was surprised to see him kneeling down with me. "He has lasted longer than I expected. Perhaps this is someone we should aide, after all."

I forget now the exact expression I made, but I know I smiled. "Shall we plow our way through to the center?"

"Once inside, fight back to back." Frederick replied, and that was when I knew he was with me for this one.

"Agreed. We shall outlast this hoard like many before." He smiled back at me. Normally, he would allow no such thing, but once in awhile like now, he realized there was no changing my mind.

"I still argue with this, but at this moment in time, our only plan seems to be what shall happen."

"Yes. Now!" I leapt out from behind the cover of the stone, Frederick right behind me. My sword tasted many Risen, and to my own poor luck, as did I. I despise those things. Naga help anyone who has to battle those things on a regular basis.

We had only taken down a few of the Risen when, in the center of the mass where the man fought, I saw what looked like a glimpse of a setting sun coupled with what sounded like a war cry. Frederick was quick to react, yelling to get down the same time he covered my body with his armored one. Before he covered my view, I saw the magic of a spell spread vastly over the area. A blazing ring the exact colors of sunset swept through the area from the man, out. The heat that passed over us was intense, and even through Frederick's protective form, I felt my hair be singed. It wasn't quite fire that passed over us. Yes, the vibrant reds and yellows spit some flames, but ones that never touched us. However, all around us, I could hear the cries of Risen engulfed in the magic and en masse, empty armor hit the ground before vanishing away as the owner had done a moment before.

When Frederick finally moved aside and allowed me to view the damage done, I found myself incredulous. Not a single leaf nor blade of grass was burnt, and the only evidence of a fight was the trampling of the grasses around, but even as I watched, the grass began to restore itself as grasses do. Here and there, scraps of armor were quickly disintegrating, but otherwise it seemed the entirety of the Risen hoard was wiped out. Completely. Looking up at Frederick, I saw not a speck of blood, and even my sword was pristine. Every trace was gone.

Except, for one. Right where he stood moments ago, the man I saw was still there. His massive sword was halfway buried in the ground and he stood, hands wrapped around the hilt, still bent in the position to thrust the sword down. I could see he was panting. After a spell like that, I couldn't blame anyone for being tired, though I saw no tome on his person. This fact did not come to me until later. At the time, I had gotten up, grinning like a fool and approached him, Frederick of course following warily. His cloak's hood had fallen so I could see he sported flat, dark hair although the color was not distinguishable to me at a distance. I began to call out to him when he stilled momentarily, then went down on his knees, one hand dropping from his blade's handle to the blade itself, as if using the broad side for support. My greeting died in my throat and as I broke into a run and a new set of vocalizations came to my lips.

"Hey! Are you injured? We can-" my words once again died in my throat as I quite literally nearly lost my throat. I had stopped just in time, for as I had spoken, the warrior leapt up, all fatigue long distant. In one swift motion, he was back on his feet a step back, sword ripped from the ground and spun around, which led it to its new resting place directly in front of my jugular. I could feel the cold tip as I swallowed, my body slightly ahead of my head. Frederick stilled behind me as well and I could hear him cursing under his breath for not being the one in my position and me safe behind him. Ignoring his mutterings though, I focused on the man in front of me now. From here, I could see much more. His hair was the darkest shade of red I had ever laid eyes upon. It was nearly black, and in the light of afternoon, looked like that ember that stubbornly stayed, hidden, after you watered the fire, and hours later came back to burn down the entire forest. His face was much gentler, almost womanly, with a small nose that, in another situation, I would have thought cute. However, blade to my throat and a deadly look on his face, that sort of thought was far from my mind. His stance, however, gave me a different idea. He stood in a crouch, his weight on his toes in a wide stance and hips equal in height with his knees, while his upper torso was leaned forward, sword held by both hands. It was perfectly straight from wrist to my throat, giving me one idea as to his vocation. It was a stance favored by assassins.

A moment passed with the three of us as still as could be. Frederick behind me, afraid that a movement would tip the man's choice in favor of my death; me, afraid that moving would be my death, and him. In his eyes, I saw that he did not wish to kill me, but as always with those who walk a fighter's path, he would if he had to.

As gently as I could, I took a breath, carefully forming words I hoped wouldn't be my death. "Hello, stranger. We mean no harm. We only wanted to help rid of the Risen."

Very slowly, I could see a slight change in the stranger's eyes, and my previous thought of assassin seemed wrong. To show what he showed would be death to an assassin. No, there was much more here to this man. In his own voice, which rumbled as he spoke as if used very little, he offered me a response. "That is not my problem. I care not what you do, but leave me out of it."

Hearing a confirmation that my death was not on his preference list, I rushed into another reply. "Understood. But, if you are injured, we have a healer. Please, allow us to heal you."

"I am not hurt."

Here, I could see as his grip slackened ever so slightly. Just enough that his blade dropped a few centimeters, and I took this as a cue of him allowing me to take the step back I had been dreaming of for the past eternity now. I could hear Frederick behind me sigh in relief, but once again, I paid it no mind in favor of looking at the man before me. "I can see you are exhausted though. After a fight like that, and I wish we had been here sooner to assist you, I can imagine how tired you must be. We are about to set up camp for the evening. You may rest with us, protected for the night, at least."

As I spoke, he slowly stood, but did not sheath his sword, instead favoring to return the tip to the ground. I half expected it to sink into the ground with a great weight, but it barely pierced the dirt beneath. His movements were fluid, almost like a martial arts warrior, once more incredulating me and piquing my curiosity as to who this man was. Now, his expression took on a hint of something resembling surprise. "You were coming to my aide?"

"Yes. To be surrounded like that and holding your own, you must be a marvelous fighter. However, numbers were weighed against you, and we-" here, Frederick gave a small humph. I turned my head just enough – now with my throat in relative safety – to give him a glare that immediately shut him up. But of course, I would pay for that later. "-couldn't just leave you to fight the entire hoard on your own. We had to help."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but as you said, I can hold my own." With a moment of hesitation, he turned as if to go, sheathing his sword in a sleeve on his back as he took the first step to leave us. "I'll be on my way now."

Without thinking, as I am told I so often do – _Yes, Zherva, I do hear when you chide me. I am working on it._ – As I was saying, without thinking, I ran in front of the man. Once more, I was met with a blade. This time, it was a dagger pointed at my stomach, and this time, Frederick cursed rather loudly. Despite being held at knife point, I caught a slight, ironic smile on the unnamed man's face, and my mind was stilled in turn. It was all an act. I smiled at the man before me, who I knew now had no mind to put damage on my body. "Come on, doesn't a night without watching your back sound nice?"

"I am fine. I need not your charity."

"It's not charity. I am honestly offering. We have plenty of mead, and wouldn't mind another mouth for a night."

"Have you bear jerky?" His response was quick, as if awaiting my exact words.

"Of course." Behind him, I saw Frederick stiffen, and I remember once more how much he despises the stuff. I admit, I am not fond of it myself, and momentarily wonder why the man before would ask for it.

"And cheese?"

"Yes."

The blade at my gut twists, and the fabric of my garments twists with it, though the cool metal does not touch my flesh. "Then... I may be interested."

There, I see a full smirk upon his face. The first of many I was to come to both love and despise. Even then, that smirk made me smile and my being feel alive. "Then join us. It's that simple."

It surprises me when he suddenly steps forward and the blade does touch my skin, and I suddenly fear I was wrong and that this man would be my death. Frederick steps forward too, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. I raise a hand, stopping him, must to his displeasure. I am still sure I have the situation handled. When the man speaks again, I hold onto that belief. "Just for one night. I hold no ties to your people."

"Of course, as I meant." I return, and then my skin is relieved of that cool touch, so similar to death, as I have been told. I watch as the man before me – who I now realize stands a good four inches shorter than me – sheathes the dagger in a hidden wrap under his cloak.

"Then... I suppose I can't say no." A step back is taken, putting him at equal distance between me and Frederick, although the space is small. It is just enough for all of us to take a deep breath. He uses his. "Do keep in mind though, that I want nothing to do with any of you. So I may eat, rest, and be gone before you awaken."

"That is fine." I reply, though I have already settled to use as much of the night as I can take to convince this stranger to join us, despite the look Frederick is giving me right now. Both then and actually right now.

 _I don't care that it turned out well for us in the end. You were still reckless to do as you did._

Yest Frederick, I realize. But I am still among the living, thanks to you, so you can stop your fretting. For now.

 _Never._

Well then, you'll just have to deal with it. Anyway, before Zherva 'drops' that rock she's tossing oh so carelessly straight at my temple, allow me to continue.

As I was saying, after I spoke, the man turned to Frederick, who at this time, was still quite tense. However, he took his chance to finally speak his mind. "Milord, I do not see how this could be wise. Inviting a stranger into camp and then suggestion we will not be wary. You put too much trust in those you don't know, especially after your life was threatened, multiple times."

"Frederick, I know how much you fret, but I know what I am doing."

"But where will he sleep?" At this time, the man between us has stepped back so he can view the both of us at the same time, but I do hesitate, fearing he will run off. "Our guest tent was damaged in the last storm, as you may recall."

"He can sleep in mine, and I'll bunk with you for the night, Frederick."

Several things happen in this instant. First of all, Frederick's face gains a nice, morning rose color that I will for _sure_ tease him about later.

Second, I wonder a little if I am in fact pushing too hard to get this man – this _stranger_ – to join us.

And third, said stranger gained a very, _very_ explicit look upon his face. It was some strange combination of several emotions and I watch as one piled atop another and another. It takes mere seconds, just enough time to turn his attention fully onto me, and I see confusion, surprise, embarrassment, aghast, and downright _fury_ all mesh together on that one face.

This was a face I hoped to never again see in my lifetime, and was sure if any of my descendants, should I live long enough to have any, ever fell upon it's wrath, I would roll in my grave, if not jump up like a Risen to find myself a new hole to hide in, at least three times as deep. With a Teddy bear to hold. And maybe some nasty curses to keep a certain someone at bay a few extra seconds.

"Excuse me?" I could hear his incredulity in his voice, and a hint of that anger bubbling up. That was the exact moment I began to regret this entire endeavor. "He?" I stare with what I assume was a blank expression for what felt like a solid minute. I don't move, Frederick doesn't move, and neither of us even _considers_ speaking. 'He' does the speaking for us, and actions speak much louder than words. Imagine everything said thus far about this person being the sound of a butterfly flapping it's wings, and now, as he moved, the roar of the lion you are now trapped in a *maybe* ten foot steel cage with, and this lion is absolutely murderous. He reaches behind his head for what I'm sure is his sword or some other deadly weapon, but instead, grabs the entirety of the hair I thought was only a little longer than the hood of his cloak. I was proven wrong as he pulled out the mass of hair that was easily mid to lower back in length, which now jumped up into a wavy formation, making it even longer had it been straight, and showing off the black in her red hair under the sunlight. "SHE! I AM NO MAN!" Hand still fisted in the mass of hair, the other now pressed firmly against her stomach, revealing a relatively well endowed chest under the cloak. "Do these LOOK like a penis?! WHERE in this Gods-loving WORLD did you get the idea I was MALE?!"

SHE now humphed, dropping her hair which framed her face quite well, and the feminine features I had noticed earlier came well into light now. However, my – as she would put it – 'idiotically dumb-struck eyes' had found purchase on her endowment, my brain far from making sense out of the mounds, and the curves I could now see under the gender-neutral cloak. "HEY! Wake up, Mr. Knowitall, my eyes are up HERE!" I think my brain simply decided to freeze my vision, because to this day, I did not see her step forward, nor did I see the hand coming to my face. I did, however, feel the immediate burning in both my cheek and my neck as her hand came into contact with the prior, snapping the latter around. Then all I could see was dirt and grass, one blade of which, had a ladybug. Which – and don't you dare slap me for this – at the time, I thought was much more ladylike as an insect than you were.

 _Hey!_

Don't slap me! It's the truth!

 _You are so rude sometimes. More so back then, but-_

Only when you deserve it. Now then-

 _I'm going to pay you back for that later._

. . . (Somebody save me. . .) Nevermind! We're off track again! Anyway, as I was saying, that slap got at least some of my senses back. Enough to where when I rolled over, I met her eyes, and my gaze never wandered any lower again.

 _Liar._

Let me believe it! ANYWAY, she was huffing at me, and her bottom lip was hanging out just enough to be cute had I not been terrified at that particular moment.

 _See? Eyes never wandered, my a-_

I REALIZED LATER! Okay, okay, one more time. No more interrupting, please. You said I could do this part.

 _Fine._

Thank you. (And now I will proceed to not vocalize any of the return quips I now consider because I care not to go down the rabbit hole right now. Well, I would love to, but we have a job to do, and it's hard to bunny while marching.) Ahem, anyways. Hands on her hips and everything, I wondered how I didn't recognize her as a woman, despite the heat of battle. But, the damage was done. However, she wasn't.

"Of all the God-loving- Your tent is SO mine tonight, Bub. MEN!" With another huff, it seems she stormed off, at least a little ways away. Here now I realized just how wound up she had gotten me, as I flinched when Frederick came over. He was still watching her, and I noticed his face was pale. I wonder if my face was just as pale, or if it was bright red. Either way, I decided not to tease him about his morning rose blush earlier after that.

He offered me his hand, once the woman was a little ways away. He said nothing, but that was alright. I accepted the help, and once back on my feet, a rush of relief so powerful washed over me that I nearly sat down again. "Frederick, what have I gotten myself into this time?"

"Sir, this is a whole lot of trouble and I can't help you out of it. You're on your own with this one."

"Thanks." I grumble a little to myself, realizing she was storming off towards where my men were before the battle. I assume she was following them to where camp was being set up. "Gods, I didn't even get her name before that mess."

"And I shall not help you in retrieving that information."

"Load of help you are." I growl a little at him, but I can't blame the man. For being a woman, she was scary, and she now had free reign of the camp.

And all of my stuff in my tent. I groan again. "Ugh, kill me now. Who knows what she'll do to my tent?"

"I suggest you – and you alone – keep her up as late as you can so she is too tired to do any, er, _permanent_ damage."

I gingerly touch my cheek where the flesh still stings. "What are the chances of this wearing away before we get to camp?"

"None."

"Great."

So begins the story of my eternal embarrassment and a life I never dreamed. As Zherva phrased so perfectly before, many horrible truths, heated moments, and troubling times awaited me. Though the middle I must say is great enough to override the other two. I will admit, she is a handful, but is completely worth every moment.

 _I'll agree to that_. _You can be as well._

Why thank you.

 _They are my words, after all. And you're blushing again._

That's from you slapping me again!

 _I did no such thing._

Why must you torment me?

 _Because I love you._

Do you hear Lissa and company chanting ' _kiss, kiss, kiss'_ again?

 _Don't need to._

\- **Writing of this historical tome is temporarily halted until our nobles finish entertaining the masses -**


End file.
